The Boy with the Bread
by Lildizzle
Summary: The bread story, from Peeta's POV.


Lightning flashes. In the brief burst of brightness, I catch a glance of a small figure crouching in the alley behind the bakery. I know it must be someone in search of food. The smell of baking bread has a way of luring hungry people, and I can't blame them. How many times have I inhaled that smell of a loaf fresh from the oven, longing to eat it while it was still warm, but knowing I would only be eating hard, stale scraps? At least I eat. Or so my mother tells me.

A sharp smack to the back of my head reminds me where I am. And whom I'm with. "Peeta, you good for nothing imbecile! Are you even watching what you're doing? Who taught you to shape a loaf of bread?" my mother admonishes in that tone of voice that makes me feel like I'm both stupid and three years old.

"Sorry, Mother," I say. I can hear her muttering under her breath about worthless sons as I reshape the loaves and put them in the oven. The last batch of the night, and then I can go to bed and leave this miserable day behind me.

I relax for a moment when my mother takes a bag of trash to the back door. She can't hit me if she's not within arm's reach.

"Hey! You! There's no food for beggars here, leave before I call the Peacekeepers!" When I hear my mother's voice holler out, I know she's seen the same small figure I had glimpsed earlier. It was a child, about my age, maybe even younger. So small and frail. I find myself desperately wishing there was something I could do, but under my mother's watchful eye, I'm helpless. I hate thinking that someone else is hurting like that and I can't help.

I check for my mother. She's busy organizing supplies in the pantry and saying things about "dirty Seam trash" to no one in particular. I peer out the window, searching for the shadow I had seen earlier. There! I can barely make out a girl's face as she crouches in the darkness. She must be desperate, if she's still here after my mother's warning.

Another flash of lightning, and I see her. It's Katniss! She's barely recognizable with her soaking wet clothes hanging from her frail body. I suddenly feel sad, sadder than I've ever felt before. Katniss is hurting, dying by the looks of her. What would happen if… I try to imagine a world without Katniss Everdeen, the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

What can I do? I can't leave her out there, cold and wet and starving. Then I smell the bread. One look at it tells me I need to pull it from the oven in the next minute or it will burn. But I don't touch it. I don't know if I planned this without knowing it, or if I was just stunned by the crushing pain of imagining what it might feel like to go to school in the morning knowing Katniss might not be there, but when I smell the bread start to burn, I know she won't go hungry tonight. Not if I can help it.

I know it will come before it does. I take a deep breath in anticipation. _Smack!_ "Peeta, you idiot! Can't you smell it burning?" My mother takes the bread from the oven and thrusts it, scorching hot, into my arms. "Take it out to the pigs, you worthless…" but I'm already out the door before I can find out what kind of worthless creature I am today.

I know the bread is so hot it will leave tender red marks on my hands, but I don't care. My mind can only see Katniss, and I hope she's still nearby as I walk across the yard. When I near the pig pen, I toss the burnt loaves toward the alley with a silent plea that she will find them there. I can't linger long enough to find out, Mother being angry as she is, so I turn and head back into the bakery.

Later that night, the fresh welts on my back force me onto my stomach as I lie awake in bed. To shut out the pain, I close my eyes and think of Katniss. The way my heart leaps every morning when I see her face as I walk into our classroom. The way the sun makes her dark hair so shiny. The way she sang on the first day I met her. I'll never forget that day. And I know I'll never stop loving her, no matter what.

The only thought that lets me sleep at all that night is that Katniss Everdeen ate bread that I touched. I hope that means I'll always be with her, if only in that one small way.


End file.
